


My Booth Is Better than Yours

by WInger



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bantering, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Rivalry, School Festivals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-06 22:18:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5432834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WInger/pseuds/WInger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa makes the other third years organise fund-raising booths for the club during Cultural Festival Week. </p><p>---</p><p>“Greetings, humans. We come to your planet in peace, love and cupcakes-“</p><p>   “You guys have an arm-wrestling booth? That’s fucking unfair. Oikawa’s making us sell his lame, Disney-themed cupcakes-“</p><p>---</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monday Funday

One of the first few responsibilities that Oikawa had been given once he’d been promoted to captain was fundraising for the club. Primarily, he needed to organize multiple events to take place over their schools’ cultural festival week and aim to milk as much money from unsuspecting first-years as possible. 

“Why does a powerhouse like us even need to raise funds?” He’d wondered to the previous captain. The answer had been something along the lines of: “it’s a Seijou captain-to-captain tradition: we ensure that the next captain carrying on our legacy will always have enough on hand to treat his team!” but by then ideas for awesome events had already started to form in his head, and his attention had derailed.

First of all though, he had to rope the other third-years into organizing events. The burden for such an important task couldn’t just fall onto his shoulders alone, he explained patiently, while the other three shot him looks of varied unhappiness. Plus, this will be a good experience to put on your resumes!

“What if we refuse?” Hanamaki, always the most rebellious, had challenged.

Oikawa gave him his lunatic sunny smile. “Then as your new captain, I get to kick you out of the club for having a bad attitude and refusing to cooperate with the team.”

And then everyone begrudgingly shut up.

To start things off, Oikawa said, we’ll split the entire VBC into two, captain VS vice-captain. Immediately someone opened his mouth to argue against it. It was Iwaizumi, who said, “Why the hell do we need to split up?”

“Obviously because the club has so much competitive spirit - I thought it would be a good idea if we could capitalize on that and turn this fundraising thing into a competition. The winning team gets to take 5% out of the total earnings as a reward!”

Iwaizumi’s frown deepened and he looked like he wanted to continue, but Oikawa beat him to it by loudly declaring the people he wanted on his _Apollonian Aliens_ team. “Hanamaki Takahiro,” he shouted first.

“What? No!”

“And Shigeru Yahaba and Akira Kunimi. You can have all the other regulars because I know you’ll need more help than I do, Iwa-chan.” 

“Yeah? Fine with me, since I’ll be doing everyone else a favor by sparing them from being on _your_ team.”

“Issei,” Hanamaki whined, throwing his arms around Matsukawa’s middle. The middle blocker’s face was looking more bemused than usual. “I don’t want to be aliens with Oikawa!”

“Iwaizumi’s actually fine with this arrangement,” Matsukawa marveled in answer.

“Any creative name ideas for your second-tier team, Iwa-chan?”

“ _Godzilla,_ uh… _Kaiju-“_

Matsukawa nodded. “I like _Kaiju.”_

“Yeah that’s obviously cooler than being _Aliens-_ “

“Team _Godzilla Kaijus,”_ Oikawa announced sarcastically, marking it down on his phone. And then he added very quickly under his breath: “But we all know monsters are fictitious and aliens are real.”

“ _What,_ Trashykawa?”

 “So! The plan is that the Boy’s Volleyball Club will host stalls on Monday and Wednesday, and since there’s four of us, that makes four _different_ booths. Since I’m captain, I’ll set the example by going first, on Monday, along with Iwa-chan, and then Matssun and Makki can handle Wednesday’s.” Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s faces lifted, before he added, wagging his fingers at the two of them: “But! No copying our ideas for Wednesday!”

* * *

 

**Monday – Booth 1: Captain Oikawa’s Cupcake Bake Sale! <3**

“You know this is a surprisingly tame idea coming from you.”

“Why did you presume that I wouldn’t do something like this?” Oikawa replied, eyebrow arched as he laid out another batch of green cupcakes ( _‘Magic Matcha Mikes, green tea chocolate cupcakes, 150 yen for 3!’)_ on the table. “This idea is so by-the-book, success is practically guaranteed. And I don't have to worry at all about clashing with Iwa-chan because he wouldn’t ever dream of doing something as unmanly as this.”

“He’s making us wear frilly domestic kitchen outfits and dance to girl pop trash, and this isn’t wild enough for you?” Yahaba lightly commented. He says that, but Hanamaki saw him nod his head in time to every single offensive song – _Milkshake, Hollaback Girls, Fergalicious_ – that Oikawa had blasted from his portable speakers.

“It really isn’t manly at all.” Kunimi murmured quietly on their left.

“Stop exaggerating, the two of you. And our aprons don’t have frills!” Oikawa’s voice was a little shrilly at the last part. Hanamaki wondered if the reason why their aprons _didn’t_ have frills was because Oikawa had actually taken their dignities as males into consideration and let them off this one time, or if it was because Iwaizumi had found out and preemptively teased him to hell for it. “And none of you are even dancing to the music anyway! Don’t you guys have any killer partying moves to show off?” Oikawa had brought two aprons, one with ugly, colorful Teletubbies, and another saner one that read: “Keep Calm and Kiss this Hot Piece of a Cook”. He had decided last minute to wear the more socially acceptable one and stashed the Teletubbies beneath the table, though Hanamaki kept seeing him glance longingly at it throughout the shift.

“Killer party moves don’t stand a chance against this kind of trash music, Oikawa-san.” Kunimi replied him. He was the only one out of the four that didn’t bring an apron, probably in the hopes that Oikawa wasn’t being serious about having them wearing female aprons. But Yahaba and Oikawa both had an extra (Yahaba had foresaw this happening and came smugly prepared), and between Oikawa’s neon colored one and Yahaba’s effeminate purple flowery one, he had gone with the obvious lesser evil. Yahaba wore an identical one, so according to Oikawa and his girl-vocabulary, that meant that they were “twinning” outfits, and he was extremely pleased about it.

“My dear, naïve kouhai. You all have zero understanding regarding women’s taste.” Oikawa flipped his hair and gestured at the long queue of girls that had never once let up, as Avril Lavigne’s _Hello Kitty_ started (“Stop giving me that look, Makki, I know you like her!!”). Indeed, the combination of sweets, pop songs and Oikawa was a massive pull for the crowd, despite the fact that all four of them – young, fit, male volleyball athletes in the prime of youth – made for ugly cross-dressers. Quite a number of their customers started dancing to the tune.  

“You’re disgusting, Captain,” Hanamaki stated, trying to focus his attention on laying out blue-orange cupcakes (‘ _Stitch’s Sunset Surprise, blue pineapple flavor, 200 yen for 4!’)_ so that he wouldn’t accidentally belt out lyrics that he had completely memorized by heart. Hanamaki felt that his own apron was the best one out of here – the naked body of an ultra hot woman was imposed over his own. Her bared three points was the highlight, actually, but Coach had yelled at him for it, and he’d been made to cover the crotch and nipples with _AOBA JOHSAI VBC_ stickers. Now his apron just looked stupid, he was hot from the heat, disgruntled from listening to Oikawa and trashy pop songs, and selling cupcakes to girls who were only really interested in asking if they could buy Oikawa instead. Actually, on that thought…

“Ka-ka-ka-ka-kawaii,” Yahaba chanted next to him. Hanamaki stared disbelievingly at the hypocrite. Yahaba was however looking at the girls queuing in line, who were giggling shyly among themselves. When the girls finally looked at him, Yahaba was ready – ready with a peace sign and a tongue-out and a wink. “Thanks for supporting Captain Oikawa’s Cupcake Bake Sale! The ones you’re holding now were baked by yours truly.”

 _What the fuck,_ thought Hanamaki. “You’re really sucking up to Oikawa, aren’t you, Yahaba,” he stated, suspicions confirmed when Yahaba shrugged a little too innocently beneath Oikawa’s million-watt beam.

“Stop looking so grumpy all the time, Makki, you’re gonna get premature wrinkles like Iwa-chan!”

“Hanging around you for extended periods of time really makes me see things from his perspective,” Hanamaki retorted, ideas spinning around in his head for Wednesday.

* * *

 

**Monday – Booth 2: Arm-wrestle Fight: Compete for the title of the Strongest Man in Seijou!**

“I don’t get this,” Matsukawa deadpanned. “The only person this kind of thing would appeal to is you.”

“No,” Iwaizumi shot back. “This appeals to any decent young man with a sense of personal pride and dignity.”

“What about the girls?” Watari asked, standing unsurely next to the handmade cardboard sign that read: ‘Pay us however much you think your DIGNITY is worth.” The crowd has mostly passed by their small booth, with a few people giving them weird looks or pointing from a safe distance away. 

“They can bring their boyfriends with them,” Iwaizumi said stubbornly, seemingly unconcerned with the fact that only two brave challengers had stepped forth thus far in the past two hours (Watari: 0; Iwaizumi: 1). He leaned backwards on his chair and stretched, arm muscles flexing, but he did it with such a nonchalant face that Matsukawa couldn’t tell for sure if he was doing it for female attention or not. It worked though, he could hear high-pitched tittering coming from the background. Watari caught his eye with a knowing side-grin.

A phenomenal amount of arm muscles were on display at the Seijou VBC’s second booth today. Iwaizumi hadn’t really stipulated on a uniform, but he’d apparently caught wind that Oikawa’s team was being made to wear women aprons, and so had decided to outdo those poor losers by making his own team come in flattering muscle tees.

Imagining the pinched, disgruntled expression that Hanamaki must be wearing now made Matsukawa grin somewhere off in space, at nothing in particular, until his musings were disrupted by a sudden loud slap against the table. Immediately four wary gazes landed on their most volatile, Kyoutani Kentaro. 

Kyoutani stood up from his seat and landed his sharp gaze on Kindaichi. “Come here, Turnip-Head. Your turn to take the shift.”

Matsukawa slid his gaze back front and pretended to be unconcerned. Iwaizumi was here anyway. Kindaichi looked quickly to Iwaizumi for confirmation, who gave a small jerk of his head in assent. They swapped, then Kyoutani went to the front of the booth, reached into his back pocket for a thousand yen bill, and slammed it down on the table in front of Iwaizumi.

“I challenge you, Iwaizumi Hajime, to title of Strongest Man in Seijou,” he declared hotly. Iwaizumi sat up straight, eyebrows raised and a similar, competitive fire ignited behind his eyes.

“Fine with me, but I have conditions that you’ll have to adhere to when you lose.”

Kyoutani’s only reaction to that was to narrow his eyes even more. Matsukawa wolf-whistled and unlocked his phone to text Hanamaki. _Mad Dog-chan and Iwa-chan are about to fight._

“Name it.”

“Just one. You have to call me ‘Iwaizumi-san’when you lose.”

Matsukawa frowned. What about the other third years? His phone pinged with a message from Hanamaki. _Fight??? Is it over Trashykawa??_

_ < No, dumbass. They’re arm-wrestling._

_ > You guys have an arm-wrestling stall?!!! _

“Deal.” Kyoutani threw himself onto the chair, and the rest of them started the fanfare. Watari howled, Kindaichi banged the gong, and Mastukawa got up to write ‘KYOUTANI KENTAROU’ in big, dramatic letters in Iwaizumi’s column on the white board.

“Ready positions!” Kindaichi set the timer as Watari adjusted their hands and checked the grips and positions. “Set… Go!”

At first their clasped arms jostled a bit, before remaining stationary in the dead center, neither side budging. Arm tendons and veins rippled and bulged. Kyoutani gritted his teeth into a wide grimace like a rabid dog about to go in for the kill, but Iwaizumi’s face remained coolly impassive. A few seconds passed in tense silence… And then Iwaizumi slammed Kyoutani’s arm down with a loud bang, victorious grin breaking out across his face. The other two howled again. Matsukawa, a step ahead of the rest of them, took a photo of Kyoutani’s priceless, stunned expression and sent it to their group chat.

 “Now what do you say?” Iwaizumi demanded.

Kyoutani swallowed heavily. “Iwaizumi… _San_.”

“Good boy,” Iwaizumi nodded, gathering the bill from the table. “Thanks for supporting the volleyball club with your donation, and remember to call me that often in front of Oikawa.”

“Your last line just completely destroyed the cool senpai moment you were having.”

“Shut up Matsukawa. You wanna go?”

The red-faced Kyoutani, however, had yet to budge from his position. He looked intensely thoughtful, almost like he was considering his money and chances for a re-match. Watari was about to prompt him, but he was interrupted by a shout from afar.

_“IWAIZUMIIIIII!!”_

It wasn’t Oikawa, though their captain was also pushing his way through the crowd behind an excited Hanamaki, who was the one shouting. The two made their noisy way over to their booth.

“Greetings, humans. We come to your planet in peace, love and cupcakes-“

“You guys have an arm-wrestling booth? That’s _fucking unfair._ Oikawa’s making us sell his lame, Disney-themed cupcakes-“

“Call them lame and none of you will get to eat them” Oikawa waved the plate of colorful, petite cupcakes at them threateningly.

“You’re never lame, Captain,” Matsukawa said assuredly, reaching for a bright orange one with a small green leaf on top - pumpkin, he supposed? It must be some weird flavor if Oikawa made it – just as Oikawa expertly rotated it away from him, putting a green one in his path instead. Less than half a second later, Iwaizumi plucked and tossed the whole orange cupcake into his mouth. Matsukawa gave Oikawa a shrewd look. His captain stared back unflinchingly, eyebrows slightly raised in a ‘ _So? What chu’ gonna do about that?’_ look.

“The mint was a nice touch. Really brings out the pumpkin and dark chocolate flavor.”

“You guys are being unsettlingly cordial today,” Matsukawa observed.

“Take the pink one, I made em’,” Hanamaki chimed in, eyes shining and looking at Matsukawa like he was in on the know _._ “It’s our most popular, too!”

“Just because it’s pink!”

“Pink is good!”

“Pink _is_ good,” Matasukawa agreed. It was some kind of flower flavor, but neither too strong nor too sweet. “Made up after the fight?” He added to Oikawa.

“We didn’t fight,” Iwaizumi stated, smoothly pushing the conversation on before the sharper ones out of their three kouhai could have more time to figure out the innuendo behind their words.

“I want to fight,” Hanamaki said, interrupting. “How much for- What is with this tacky, open-ended payment manner you have here? How’re you guys gonna earn with the super clichéd _pay what you want_ method? At least the prices of our petite sugar bombs are fixed and raking in it.”

 “Well Hanamaki, you know this really depends on how much value you think your personal pride is worth.”

Oikawa gripped his wing spiker. “Don’t listen to him, Makki, he’s trying to bait you into paying more! Just give him a hundred yen coin.”

“Is your dignity seriously that cheap?”

Hanamaki scowled and dropped two hundred on the table. “All of you shut up, these are my only small change.”

“That’s the lowest amount we’ve received so far-“

“Shh, Issei! Quiet!” To Kyoutani, who hadn’t moved a muscle since he lost, he said: “Oi move it, it’s your senpais turn.”

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as Kyoutani ignored him. All three of them – Hanamaki, Oikawa and Iwaizumi – opened their mouths at the same time to reprimand him:

“I said _move,_ punk, are you deaf?“

“Mad Dog-chan, listen to your senpais~”

“Kyoutani.” Iwaizumi’s voice cut sharply over the other two’s, and seemed to be the only one to reach the target. Kyoutani twitched and looked up resolutely. “Iwaizumi-san,” he declared fiercely (as Oikawa and Hanamaki gasped in surprise). “I want a rematch.” He took out another thousand yen bill and placed it in front of all of them. Iwaizumi’s shining eyes tracked the note throughout its whole movement, from wallet to hand to table. Matsukawa knew he was sold. Oikawa gasped a second time.

“Fine with me, but on another condition. If you lose this round, you’re going to listen to me and follow my instructions no matter what I say, from then on.” 

Kyoutani doesn’t even pause to think. “Fine,” he said. Iwaizumi waved the fanfare off, started the wrestle, and defeated Kyoutani in less than fifteen seconds this time.

“Your rashness and anger impacted your performance,” Iwaizumi smugly pointed out. “Now move and let me best Hanamaki, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one writes inspiring Haikyuu fanfiction quite like Furudate Haruichi.
> 
> Greetings, humans of AO3. I hope you enjoyed this!


	2. Wednesday? Funner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Hanamaki's and Matsukawa's turn to shamelessly sell out the humiliation of the volleyball club members for profit.
> 
> \---
> 
> “Watari, I’m leaving you in charge. I have to bring our vice-captain to lunch in case he decides to run away.”
> 
> Iwaizumi stiffened, and tried to deny it. “I wasn’t gonna-“
> 
> “Save it. Let’s just go."
> 
> \---  
> 

**Wednesday – Booth 1: Oikawa-san is a Maid-sama Café! <3**

“You know, Makki, wouldn’t your booth be better if you could have gotten Mad Dog-chan into one of these, too?”

‘One of these’ was referring to the black dress and white lace maid outfit that Hanamaki had ordered him and the others to wear, while he himself wore a butler outfit. Hanamaki knew for a fact that Oikawa wasn’t actually pissed about the cross-dressing (he didn’t even make them go the whole way and wear wigs or make-up, but he did make his captain wear his glasses), and had in fact accepted the maid costume idea without much struggle. There could only be one reason for that, and Hanamaki was in the midst of text fighting Matsukawa to loan that reason over for a bit: _Just 30 mins that's all the time assikawa needs_

“It’s been two days and you’re still not over the ‘Iwaizumi-san’ thing,” he responded flatly, not bothering to look up from his phone. Matsukawa was typing. Oikawa huffed.

“Doesn’t it bother you that despite clearly having the power to do so, Iwa-chan _did not_ administer Kyoutani to respect and obey the rest of us third-years??”

_ > No way he’s my bestseller do you know how much losses I would incur if he’s gone for even five mins_

_ < Don’t sell yourself short mattsun babe we both know your bod is hot too_

_ > Like you today I’m the one pimping rather than prostituting, so no_

“I trust that Iwaizumi can have him under control all the time. Don’t you?” While Oikawa momentarily fell silent at the way Hanamaki had flipped the tables on him so fast, he added, “You’re just sulky cos you’re a freaking control _freak_ and Kyoutani’s too weirded out by you to even want to recognise your presence."

“I’m not sulking!”

“You’ve been ignoring Iwaizumi since Monday and clinging on to me instead.” To Matsukawa he typed: _Then let me rent his services from you_

 _ > For what?_

_ < whatever you want  ( “ 3 “ ) wherever you want ( * >< *) im alllll urs_

_ > Really anything? _

Hanamaki switched his phone camera and snapped a picture of himself sticking his tongue out between V-sign fingers, and sent it off to Matsukawa. Behind him Oikawa continued to whine: “Stop being perverted in public and listen to my problems, Makki!”

“Captain I’ll fucking _solve_ your problem if you get round to shaking that ass and busting those tables,” he ordered. Oikawa scowled (but prettily so) and retorted: “Cut it with those stupid slangs and look up once in a while to scan _your_ café, why don’t you? Maybe then you’ll be able to see that the other two have the whole floor covered.”

“Well they could use more help,” Hanamaki snapped back. In hindsight it probably wasn’t that good of an idea to run a themed café with only the four of them. They were severely short on people and barely delivered the level of quality that Hanamaki’s fantastic, shimmery marketing had promised. “Swap with the other two, have them do all the cooking while you run all the tables by yourself. It’ll be faster with two people toasting and cutting breads into hearts, anyways."

“ _I’m_ your pimp,” he added quickly, pointing a finger in the general direction of his annoying captain. His phone was buzzing with a new snap of Matsukawa and it was a rare selfie of his even rarer sexy, anticipatory smirk. He needed to screenshot it before it disappeared, and he would be damned if a petty argument with his stupid captain kept him from doing that. “So know your rightful place and stop arguing with me, hooker!”

 _“_ Okay, _what_ did you just call me? I haven’t even started on how you used my name and image to market this stupid, over-used, anime-clichéd maid-café idea of yours to unknowing high school girls-”  

 _ < I can solve all of this unbearable sexual tension in our club with just a snap of my fingers_

_ < and you wouldn't let me_

_ < can u even imagine how PRECIOUS iwa-chan’s face would be when he sees assikawa???_

_ > Moot point if I’m not there to see_

_ < u dont understand_

_ < I set up hidden cams_

_ > nice try. But I know u don’t have the budget._

Hanamaki scowled at the phone, thought about it for a while, then snapchatted that face and sent it to Matsukawa alongside a sullen message: _fine then make sure you come here for lunch and BRING IWA-CHAN ALONG._ Something small and fast-moving caught his attention in his peripheral, and Hanamaki ducked, but it still managed swipe against the top of his head. It was a piece of toast that Oikawa had chucked at him, and Hanamaki redirected his annoyed expression to his captain.

 “Hanamaki Takahiro,” Oikawa took a deep breath and pushed his glasses up. Hanamaki rolled his eyes. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for the last five minutes-“

“Get to the point, Captain.”

“Kunimi’s disappeared!”

“What?” Bewildered, Hanamaki gave a once-over around the classroom and observed that indeed, Kunimi had disappeared. Again, there could only be one reason for this.

_ > is kindaichi still at ur stall because our kunimi just disappeared_

_ < no fucking way_

_ < shit_

“Why didn’t you keep an eye on him?” Hanamaki demanded. “Now he’s probably off somewhere fucking with his boyfriend, and _oh,_ ” he paused, and decided heck, he should get on Oikawa’s nerves as much as possible since he was in a higher position than Oikawa today. “No wonder you’re so prissy, it’s cos Kunimi’s ran off and now you can’t be off somewhere fucking around with yours.”

Oikawa’s face turned purple and he threw another object at Hanamaki, hissing like a cat. Hanamaki caught the egg in his hand and made a bitchy face. “Can you stop throwing these stuff at me - Do you want us to run out of ingredients on top of being understaffed?”

“Can you not talk about our club member’s sexual escapades in a public setting when we have customers.”

“Oops. Ain’t my fault that you’re letting the first years run unchecked, though, they’re like a bunch of horny bunnies.”

“You’re the one in charge today so all of that’s your responsibility!”  

“You know I was just thinking about the progress of our stall today, and that business is kinda slow despite the fact that I have you dressed up as a glasses-maid making cutesy heart sandwiches for everyone – could that be because _somebody_ is busy harassing other people instead of properly doing his job?”

“Wait till this stupid fundraising thing is over, I swear to _god,_ Makki; I’m your Captain!!“

“And you’ll do what? What _can_ you do, maid? Shake a feather duster at me, in your pretty skirt and glasses?”

* * *

**Wednesday – Booth 2: Prized Variety, Japan-made only – Guns Show!**

“This is so fucking tacky,” Iwaizumi informed his friend, to no avail. He had been persistently complaining throughout the whole shift in the hopes that his message would eventually make it through Matsukawa’s thick skin, and that he would finally let up and allow Iwaizumi to go for lunch. Only instead of lunch, he was planning to run away from this stupid booth and hide somewhere _sane_  until the day ended. “I’m feeling really objectified here.”

Matsukawa’s brilliant idea was to have his half of the VBC boys (excluding himself) to line up by their booth, topless, and charge people a fee for a chance to either touch or take a picture with them. “The main point is that you guys are muscular and topless,” Matsukawa had explained, normally bored eyes twinkling in an uncanny Oikawa impression. He had even personally designed a board to explain the various “services” that he was selling:

_\- Sample Touch (one touch to get a solid feel of our guns!) --- 100 yen_

_\- Quality Check (grope and squeeze around to get a better feeling of our guns!) --- 200 yen/second_

_\- Review Shot (take a picture of our guns for future referencing!) --- 350 yen_

_\- Perfect Shot (take a picture of yourself with one of our guns to commemorate!) --- 450 yen_

To the others’ displeasure, Matsukawa’s rip-off, borderline prostitution booth idea was a massive crowd favorite. Iwaizumi couldn't wrap his head around the girls that were more than eager to shell out their pocket money just for a chance to touch some random guy’s arms for a few seconds. Customer flow had been non-stop since opening, so successful that now, in the afternoon, Matsukawa was far too busy counting and recounting his money to properly hear Iwaizumi’s woes; the others were all clearly virgins and too busy feeling pleased with their short-spanned but unending female attention to continue siding with Iwaizumi.

“Kindaichi’s been gone for twenty minutes,” he tried. He wasn’t actually worried – he had half an idea as to what his kouhai might be up to. The question was: girls or Kunimi? He wasn’t allowed to use his phone (“Guns don’t move unless the customers want to move them”) so he had no chance of texting Oikawa to find out. 

“Iwaizumi,” Matsukawa finally spoke up, looking up from _his_ phone to give him a hard stare. Iwaizumi turned around and gave him a wide-eyed, innocuous but piercing look – basically, his version of puppy-dog eyes. He’d picked it up and modified it from Oikawa’s (to make it manlier, chiefly), and Iwaizumi wasn’t beneath using tricks like this to get his way occasionally, especially when they worked so well (on girls, especially). So long as Oikawa wasn’t in the vicinity to catch him doing it. Besides, the look was so low-key that no one had been able to quite put their finger on it, and everyone always eventually caved to Iwaizumi’s silent, serious implore.

“I wasn’t going to say this since you’re a third-year already, but don’t make me impose a ‘no talking’ ban on you guys either. You know technically guns aren’t suppose to speak unless the customers want them to, right?”

Immediately, Iwaizumi dropped the look and went for something more typical of himself – a thunderous glower. Seriously, how thick was this guy’s skin? 

“Okay, first, what the fuck is wrong with you-" 

“Are you hungry?” Matukawa asked, out of the blue. “Are you acting like this because you’re hungry? It’s 2 o’clock now.”

“No shit,” Iwaizumi snapped. “And I’m cold.”

“Fine, then let’s go get food.” Matsukawa stood up and Iwaizimu reared back, wary. “Watari, I’m leaving you in charge. I have to bring our vice-captain to lunch in case he decides to run away.”

Iwaizumi stiffened, and tried to deny it. “I wasn’t gonna-“

“Save it. Let’s just go."

“Lemme get my shirt and wallet-“

“The food’s free, and no shirt.” Matsukawa stared him down. “My booth, my rules, that’s final.”

“Oh yeah?” Iwaizumi could feel the younger ones watching their exchange with interest. “You wanna think twice about that? Who’s the vice-captain here?” 

“Who’s the gun dealer here?”

“For the last time,” Iwaizumi had to take a deep breath to calm himself down. “ _Cut it out_ with all that gun crap, you tacky, lame-“ Matsukawa started to walk off. “Oi, Matsukawa!” Iwaizumi was ignored.

He followed begrudgingly, having no other choice – he really was hungry, and Matsukawa did say ‘free food’. A little of their way there he realized something, and spoke up.

“Don’t tell me we’re going to Hanamaki’s booth.” 

Matsukawa shrugged. “I was told that their service is excellent and just for us, the food will be free.”

“Yeah, by _Hanamaki._ Is his food clean?”   

“I’m pretty sure it’s a decent café, just understaffed.” Saying so, Matsukawa pushed the classroom door open and entered. Matsukawa squinted at the girlishly pink title. 

“I don’t get it.”

“It’s a reference to the popular shoujo manga,” Iwaizumi explained. He saw those stuff once in a box at the bottom of Oikawa’s closet, which he’d thought at first was porn, but turned out to be something much, much worse. “A cross-dressing café? What the hell’s wrong with the two of you? Instead of actually selling products or emotional satisfaction you’re just selling out the entire volleyball team’s humiliation.”

Out of nowhere, somebody shrieked loudly in horror, and there was a loud crashing sound of numerous metal things falling onto the floor. The two of them turn to see one of the maid’s rear end sticking up in the air as whoever it was hastily tried to pick up all the dropped cutlery. Hanamaki, in butler uniform, was yelling at him.

Both Iwaizumi and Matsukawa gazes landed on and stared hard at the maid’s butt. Matsukawa was the one to voice out both of their thoughts:

“Holy shit Hanamaki, you got them to wear _panties_?" 

 _Holy shit,_ agreed Iwaizumi. Satin pink, at that. He moved forward slowly, curious as to who it was. Probably sensing his approach, the maid tried to scramble away on all fours, awkwardly as he was frantically trying to pick up cutlery still. Iwaizumi kept edging forward and the other kept moving away. Finally tired of it, and though it was a little mean, Iwaizumi decided to stick out his foot and trip the bastard on his next move. He probably knew this guy pretty well anyway – it could only be Yahaba or Oikawa (Kunimi was, as expected, not around). The maid landed on his ass (panties) with another ungainly cry, glasses almost falling off his face. His _pose_ however, was what really stood out to Iwaizumi. It looked rehearsed and exactly like one of those stereotypical female characters out of the shoujo shit that Oikawa liked to read: one knee up, the other flat against the floor; hands splayed, skirt flared out, black pantyhose stretching across thighs, head bowed and biting the lower lip furiously-

“Oikawa,’ he said slowly, finally getting a good look at the blushing, bespectacled face. “Holy shit, you’re actual shoujo _trash.”_ As the words leave his mouth a sudden inspiration hits Iwaizumi. Without further ado he acted on it, knocking aside Oikawa’s clumsy hands and sweeping the cutlery onto the silver tray holder himself. Lifting the tray with his left hand, Iwaizumi straightened his lower body and ran his free hand through his hair. Re-schooling his expression from a smirk into a gentle smile, he then extended that hand into Oikawa’s stupidly blinking face, and in a voice that he usually reserved for pretty older woman, he asked lowly and kindly:

“Woah, careful there. Need my help?”

Oikawa slapped his proffered hand away and pushed himself from the ground with a huff, though the way Oikawa’s face turned from shoujo pink to volcano red was completely worth that embarrassing stint he just pulled. _It was worth it_ , Iwaizumi reiterated to himself. Even so, he kicked himself internally and swore to never parody a _fucking shoujo male character -_ what the hell had he been thinking? - in public, and especially not in front of Matsukawa _and_ Hanamaki, ever again.

“Shut it, Iwa-chan, what about you and your missing shirt, huh?”

Before they could continue, Hanamaki appeared next to them with barely contained glee written all over his face. He patted Oikawa approvingly on the shoulder and turned to smirk nastily at Iwaizumi, pearly whites showing. Iwaizumi immediately leaned away from him, goose bumps breaking out over his exposed torso. 

“Dear customer,” Hanamaki began, pulling some kind of laminated card out from behind his back. “It seems like you’re a little unfamiliar with our themed café policies.” He handed the card to Iwaizumi, who winced at the bright pink and blue text written in illegible fancy script – nope. “I can’t read this shit,” he stated blandly, pushing it back.

“No worries, I’ll just verbally tell you all about it. Alas, we do have quite a number of rules, and this may be overwhelming for first-time visitors, so I’ll give you a blow-by-blow breakdown of all the charges you’ve incurred thus far. First of all, there’s a very minor 50 yen fee for the entrance. After that, our café charges at various rates per half hour, depending on the type of activity you choose to pursue in our café – sitting at a table or just standing around. As you, good sir, just happened to have walked into our café, your tab goes under “standing around”, which means a rate of 100 yen per half hour, of which you have already spent six minutes of. Ah, but spend 2 hours here and I’ll give you a 15% off your total.”

“… Why couldn't you just say ‘150 yen _’_ like a normal person?”

“Not yet, sir, there’s more! I see that you’ve been engaging in one of our maids here, and depending on the type of engagement, we also charge various fees on a per minute rate. The cheapest activity is making eye contact, at 50 yen/min, and the next activities are all plus 150 yen from the previous rate – they include: speaking, touching hands, and touching other parts of the body. Finally, we have an extra special rate for enacting out role-plays with the maids, at a premium of 1000 yen per minute. Ah, and one more thing!” Finally pausing for breath, Hanamaki waved a polaroid in Iwaizumi’s dumbfounded face. It’s a crystal clear picture of Oikawa on the floor with his panties visible and a half-naked Iwaizumi standing over him. Iwaizumi’s face burned – the photo looked highly suggestive from that particular angle. Hanamaki still wasn’t done. “This one and only, superbly candid photograph of you, esteemed customer, with our most popular glasses-Oikawa maid-sama, could be all yours at the exclusive price of 1500 yen only!”

Iwaizumi sputtered. “Why don’t you charge me for simply breathing the godammned _air_ in your goddamned café?”

Hanamaki’s smile doesn’t waver. “I already am.”

Even Oikawa looked apologetic. “Um, Makki-“

“Hush, maid-sama. Don’t interrupt.”

Iwaizumi stared at him disbelievingly. “Yeah? You aren’t seriously thinking that I’m gonna pay for this load of bull.”

“So you don’t want this photo?”

Iwaizumi swallowed. Standing to one side, Oikawa shifted on his feet, met Iwaizumi’s eyes for a heartbeat, then quickly darted his gaze to the floor, embarrassed. Iwaizumi tried to swallow again, but his throat had suddenly run dry. So he tried instead to clear his throat. 

“I- I didn’t say that." 

“So… Does that means you-" 

“... I want it.”

* * *

 

Oikawa frowned into his notebook as he did the accounts for the cultural festival. Their earnings (and unrelated statistics) were as follows:

 

_Team Apollonian Aliens, Day 1 (Oikawa): 16, 500 yen_

  * _Largest customer type: Females_
  * _Best-selling item: Rainbow (4-in-one) Cupcakes Pack!_



 

_Team Godzilla Kaijus, Day 1 (Iwaizumi): 10, 200 yen_

  * _Largest customer type: VBC members/Males_
  * _Highest spending customer: Kyoutani Kentaro_
  * _Lowest spending customer: Hanamaki Takahiro_
  * _Strongest Male in Aoba Jousai: Iwaizumi Hajime_
  * _Smallest customer base_  



 

_Team Apollonian Aliens, Day 2 (Hanamaki): 13, 400 yen_

  * _Largest customer type: Females_
  * _Highest spending customer: Iwaizumi Hajime_
  * _Most customer complaints_



 

_Team Godzilla Kaijus, Day 2 (Matsukawa): 18, 230 yen_

  * _Largest customer type: Females_
  * _Best-selling item: Iwaizumi’s guns_
  * _Least-popular item: Watari’s guns_



 

_Total:_

_Apollonian Aliens: 29, 900 yen --- Winner_

_Godzilla Kaijus: 28, 430 yen_

 

He scowled at Matsukawa’s earnings. Even the facts that _Apollonian Aliens_ had won, or that Iwaizumi’s booth had earned the least, did little to soothe Oikawa’s dented pride over the fact that Matsukawa’s booth had been the most popular. Whatever. Moving on. 

The next section was the results from an internal survey he’d conducted in order to award ‘Most Hardworking’ and ‘Least Hardworking’ awards to his team members, as well as other funny but miscellaneous awards – all of which were for the purpose of boosting team morale, of course. They were:

 

_Most Hardworking Kouhai Award: Shigeru Yahaba_

  * _Does everything and complains the least!_



_Least Hardworking Kouhai Award: Akira Kunimi_

  * _Uncooperative and prone to AWOL_



_Most Hardworking Senpai Award: Hanamaki Takahiro_

  * _Put a surprisingly high level of effort into things_



_Least Hardworking Senpai Award: Oikawa Tooru_

 

“What the fuck,” Oikawa said. He triple-checked the pile of survey slips and scowled at the injustice of it all as he scrawled down the most popular reason the other members had tacked onto him. “Who planned things from the start, and who’s doing the accounts now? Ungrateful brats.”

 

  * _Hypocritical Grand King of Complaints._



 

Oikawa stared at what he’d written onto the paper and licked his lips. Mindful to keep his body language subtle so as not to draw Iwaizumi’s attention, Oikawa quietly reached for the red pen and proceeded to strike the ‘Least Hardworking Senpai Award’ section out. He didn’t dare to look at Iwaizumi, just in case, so he quickly put the red pen back and moved onto the next award.

 

_Most Creative Booth: Prized Variety, Japan-made only – Gun Show!_

  * _Surprised that the teachers didn’t try to censor it_



_Most Original Booth: Arm-wrestle Fight: Compete for the title of the strongest man in Seijou!_

  * _Points for turning his personal hobby into a profit-making endeavor_



 

Oikawa snorted a small fond smile onto his face.

 

_Least Creative Booth: Oikawa-san is a Maid-sama Café <3_

  * _Shoujo manga rip-off and used Oikawa as a marketing tool AGAIN_



 

And the frown was back on Oikawa’s face. But wait, there was more:

 

_Least Original Booth: Captain Oikawa’s Cupcake Bake Sale! <3_

  * _So typical_



 

Reaching for the red pen again, Oikawa promised himself to never, ever poll his dumb teammates again. What did they know about true marketing or real business endeavors, anyway? Nothing. They knew nothing-

“I _saw_ you, Trashykawa! What the hell are you doing, randomly scribbling in the club notebook with red ink?” Iwaizumi’s sudden shout made Oikawa jump in his seat. He quickly flipped to the next page before his sharp vice-captain could see.

“Stop, Iwa-chan!!” He was getting whacked now, on the grounds for looking guilty and suspicious. “You can’t see this, it’s confidential!”

“Don’t screw with me, I’m _your_ vice-captain; nothing is confidential that I can’t see.”

“How mean! What’s the emphasis on being _my_ vice-captain supposed to imply?”

Iwaizumi peered at him with one eyebrow raised. He’d caught both of Oikawa’s wrists with his hands and was now trying to force Oikawa’s butt off the chair with his knee. “It means I’m the real captain, doing all the real work.”

Oikawa’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me-“ he started, but Iwaizumi muscled him onto the floor.

“Did you seriously just strike out all the stupid awards that you lost for, you ego-centric bastard? Wait, this isn’t the club notebook-“

“It’s my own notebook!” Oikawa jumped off the floor and tried to slam the book shut, but Iwaizumi snatched it off the table and held it far away from him. In their jostling around, a small card fell out of the book. Oikawa tried to grab it, but Iwaizumi was, again, stronger and faster. He flipped the card around – it was a polaroid, and the sides were decorated in turquoise colored marker-tip hearts. There was a date on the top, and on the bottom border were words in neat capitals: ‘SHOUJO IRL MAID + TSUN’.

Quick, come up with an excuse - his sister, his nephew, or: “Makki wrote that.”

“Lame. Yeah right.” Despite his words, Iwaizumi’s face was red too. “Why are you writing this kind of stuff in your personal notebook?”

Oikawa considered how carefully Iwaizumi was holding their polaroid between his fingers, and decided to tell the simple truth. “For memories.” He nudged Iwaizumi’s side and pushed as much of himself onto the chair – and Iwaizumi – as possible. Iwaizumi doesn’t resist. The rested against each other, half on half in the empty classroom, quietly looking at Oikawa's annotations and pictures from the Cultural Festival. Affectionately, he pressed a kiss into the side of Iwaizumi’s temple. Iwaizumi reciprocated by turning so that they could kiss properly on the lips. Oikawa's skin warmed in anticipation. It was past school hours; the school should be empty, which means that it won't be likely for anyone to catch them making out like this. Emboldened, Oikawa licked the length of Iwaizumi's lower lip before slipping his tongue in, to which Iwaizumi greedily sucked. The kissing was turning wet, noisy and hot, when all of a sudden the two were interrupted by a loud banging sound - the sound of a classroom door being flung open. Oikawa jerked away from Iwaizumi to look and took a black projectile to the face. 

"What in the hell-" It was the maid outfit from Hanamaki's stupid booth. The white lace apron and cuffs were thrown at him next. As Oikawa looked up confusingly, he registered Hanamaki's pink head grinning from the door, as the last piece of the outfit sailed over and slapped Iwaizumi on the nose - the panty. 

"Oi Iwaizumi! I know how much this turned you on last time, so here! And don't worry, I washed everything  _but_ the panty! Have fun!" As abruptly as he appeared Hanamaki disappeared, along with the mood and a good portion of their dignity.  

 

“... Say Iwa-chan, wanna see the compromising revenge polaroids I took of Makki and Mattsun?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As soon as I saw Hanamaki give Oikawa the bunney after spiking his toss during practice, I just knew that he would be one hell of a sassy, cock-blocking butler.


End file.
